Remember When
by Yatzstar
Summary: "If it's any comfort, you always were afraid of thunderstorms." He laughed at a memory. "But you were too much of a jerk to admit it."


**AN: I'm having major ScarletVision writers block, so have some Steve and Bucky friendship (with some implied Scarlet Vision).**

/

Lightning flashed over the Avengers Facility, briefly illuminating the building before it was plunged into darkness again. Shortly thereafter, thunder boomed. Those that lived in the building slept on, all except for one.

Bucky Barnes wandered the halls of the Facility. He had gotten acclimated to life here, ever since the Avengers had come to good terms. Tony had replaced his arm to an even better one that had the ability to feel texture, and he loved it. Life had been fairly peaceful since then. There had only been a few missions, none of which Bucky had gone on, understandably. His memory was still slightly unstable, with holes and patches here and there. He still found it hard to remember life before he fell off the train.

Tonight, however, memories were coming to him anew. The thunder had awoken him, bringing back the bits and pieces of old times. He remembered, ironically, being a good sniper, and following Steve—Captain America—with a band of men who looked vaguely familiar, whom he felt a vague sense of camaraderie with. The thunder, however, brought back visions of bombs. Every crash was a shell exploding, and every flash of lightning was a rifle shot. The rain was the rat-a-tat-tat of bullets.

He somehow found himself in the commons room of the Facility, curled on one of the huge couches with his back to the bay windows. The room was only dimly lit by the lights from outside, casting strange shadows over everything. Bucky tried his hardest not to imagine enemies leaping from these shadows, his mind already on edge from the storm.

Boom!

Bucky dove for cover underneath the throw blankets someone had left on the couch. There had been no lightning, no flash to warn him, just a tremendous bang that sent tremors through the entire building. He lay there under the blanket, fingers in his ears and eyes screwed shut for who knows how long, visions of battles long passed dancing through his head.

"Buck?" A voice invaded his thoughts.

He sat up like a bolt, pulling the blanket off his head. At some point, Steve had managed to make his way into the commons room without his notice. The lights were on, and his friend was hovering near him with an anxious expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "FRIDAY told me you were here."

"I'm—" He flinched as another peal of thunder rumbled from somewhere nearby."The storm woke me…and some memories."

"Stay here. I'll be back in a moment." Bucky could only sit mutely as Steve hurried away.

A few minutes later, he returned with two large, steaming mugs of something that smelled suspiciously of hot chocolate. He held on to one for himself, and set the other in front of Bucky on the coffee table.

"Mind if I sit?"

Bucky shook his head, and Steve sat down next to him.

"What do you remember?"

It was a simple enough question, but Bucky found it hard to answer. So, slowly, haltingly, he told his friend everything he could legibly piece together.

When he finished, Steve nodded, as if he knew exactly what Bucky was talking about. "You remembered your time with the Howling Commandos. It was before…" He paused. "…before the fall."

Bucky nodded. That made sense.

"I know it seems like a lot in bits and pieces," Steve said. "But it wasn't all that bad."

Bucky just nodded again, furrowing his brow as he tried to piece things together.

"Anything else?" Steve pressed gently.

"No," Bucky said, taking a sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth from the drink flowing through him.

"If it's any comfort, you always were afraid of thunderstorms." He laughed at a memory. "But you were too much of a jerk to admit it."

"And you were a punk for teasing me about it."

Memories filtered back slowly of a childhood long gone, trickling into Bucky's worn mind. He saw himself running and laughing with a much smaller and skinnier Steve through the streets of Brooklyn. He saw Steve with black eyes and busted lips, hearing his own voice demanding who had done this as he pulled the smaller boy from a backstreet alleyway. He saw them huddling under a blanket with a flashlight, furiously trying to smother the snickers that were threatening to escape their mouths as they risked awakening the others in the house.

"I remember," he said finally, a smile twitching on his lips. "You were a real idiot back then, Steve."

Steve laughed. "Well, so we're you! Remember when you would sleep over and Mom would tell us to be quiet on pain of death but you would keep tickling me to get us in trouble?"

"You deserved it. You kept putting your cold feet on me."

"I did not!"

"Did to!"

"Did not!"

"I'm going to win this argument whether you like it or not," Bucky growled.

Steve arched an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh really? How's that?"

"The old fashioned way!" Without pause, Bucky pounced upon Steve, sending him sprawling backwards on the couch.

"Buck, what the—" Steve's protests were cut off when cold metal dug into his side, causing a very unmanly squeak to leave his mouth.

"You deserved it!" Bucky growled mischievously, using his weight to pin the other man onto the couch. "Say you deserved it!"

"Buck, this is stupid! Tony will rip us a new one if we wake him up!"

Bucky prodded Steve in the side again, snickering as Steve fought to keep his laughter under control. "Say you deserved it and I'll stop."

"It was ninety years ago—" His protest trailed into laughter as more poking ensued. "Fine, fine! I deserved it!"

Bucky sat back, grinning wolfishly. "I also remembered that I always win the arguments, Stevie."

Steve clambered upright, glaring at him. "You're horrible."

"I know."

They lapsed into comfortable silence. After a moment, Bucky grew consciously aware of the lack of ambience.

"The storm stopped," he muttered.

Steve nodded. "It did a while ago. Do you want to go back to bed now?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, I'm fine out here."

"Hey…d'you remember Coney Island?"

Bucky thought for a moment before his grin returned. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Remember when…"

The two old friends sat there for long into the night, reminiscing on old times and looking forward to new ones. Bucky was beginning to realize that life wasn't all that bad.

/

Vision drifted into the commons room, intent on preparing a traditional Sokovian breakfast for a certain woman. His last attempt hadn't gone so well, but he was going to get it right this time.

He was completely oblivious to the two men on the couch until a loud and guttural snore broke the morning stillness. He grappled with the spoon he was holding, almost dropping it when he was startled.

Slowly, cautiously, he drifted up to the couch, resisting the urge to smile at the sight before him.

Bucky and Steve lay sprawled on the couch together, bathed in the gray morning light. Steve's head was on Bucky's chest, drool seeping from his mouth onto the other's shirt, and Bucky was hugging Steve to him like a child hugs their stuffed animal, a hilariously tiny blanket flung over them both. Their legs were completely knotted together, making it impossible to distinguish whose feet were whose. Another snore erupted from Bucky's wide open mouth, his head thrown back against one of the pillows on the couch.

Despite knowing he would probably get flack for it later, Vision pulled out his Starkphone and took a picture, just like Wanda had taught him. He smiled at the result and stowed the device away, drifting silently from the room, leaving the two old friends to sleep peacefully.

/

"Hey, you guys look like a hot mess when you sleep. No wonder you don't sleep when other people are around. But hey, you're cute."

Bucky's head shot up to glare at Tony. "What?"


End file.
